Beyond XS Shades Of Christmas
by Darqstar
Summary: It's just before Christmas and Gambit keeps disappearing from the mansion. Bishop just has to find out why. Note, Beyond XS are stories that take place in the XS universe, but do not contain Siku as the main character


Shades Of Christmas  _Beyond X-S (Storys that take place in the X-S unverse, but do not contain Sikudhani as the main character)_

Shades Of Christmas

Darqstar 

  


  


  
"There he goes again," Sikudhani commented as she looked out the living room window.  


"There who goes?" Bishop asked, almost absentmindedly as he cleaned one of his guns on the coffee table. Beast and Bobby were in the middle of a training session, most of the X-women were out doing some early Christmas shopping, so he'd been unwittingly roped into watching Sikudhani. It wasn't that he didn't like the child, it's just that she _was_ a child, and therefore, it was difficult for him to relate to her.  


"Unca Remy," Siku said, still looking out the window. "He goes out every day when the clock reads big-hand-twelve-little-hand-nine."  


Bishop frowned, looking over at the child. "Really? _Every_ morning?"  


"Jus' bout," Siku said, turning back to face him. "Or at least when he's home. Can I help you with the gun?"  


"No," Bishop said firmly. "Guns are not toys for little girls to play with." Satisfied the weapon was clean and in perfect order, he began putting it together. "Besides, I'm almost finished."   


He looked up at Siku, wanting to go back to the original subject. "Do know you where it is Remy goes?" he asked. Gambit always had been and always would be a rather secretive sort, but usually his secret missions weren't something he did on a regular basis, or during daylight hours.  


"I dunno," Siku said, shrugging. "I asked him once, when I saw him leavin' but he said it was nothin' t'worry my pretty head over."  


"That sounds like your Uncle Remy," Bishop agreed. He finished putting the gun together. "I have to go lock this in the armory, but I will be right back. Don't move."  


"Okay," Siku agreed. "When you come back, will you play Candy-Land with me?"  


Bishop frowned. The idea didn't appeal to him, but neither did the probable concequences. "Will you get upset and cry if I don't?"  


Siku thought for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah, probably."  


"Then I suppose. But I get to be the red piece."  


Bishop didn't really think about Siku's observation on Gambit going out every morning at nine, until the next morning when he happened to look out the window at that time and sure enough, Gambit was getting into the mansion van and driving off. That made him wonder. Usually, if Gambit felt it was too cold to drive his motorcycle, he liked to take one of the flashier sports cars. Or, in some cases, the Rolls. The fact that he went out every day, and took the van was a mystery. _What could he be doing?_  


He didn't confront Remy with his wondering, because he didn't think it was anything to worry about, but over the next few days, he made it a point to watch. Every morning, Gambit left the house at nine o'clock sharp. His return time varied from noon to later. One time he didn't get back until almost nine at night.   


_He's lucky things are slow with the X-men now,_ Bishop thought. _No one has really noticed these disappearances but Siku and myself. And I probably wouldn't have noticed if Siku hadn't pointed it out to me._  


Six days before Christmas, Gambit left at nine a.m. sharp and didn't return until six that evening. He used the back entrance and tried to slip up the stairs, unnoticed. Bishop, however, did notice and followed behind him.  


When they were in the hallway leading to Gambit's room, he stopped dead in his tracks, not even turning around and asked, "What's up Bishop? Why you followin me?"  


"Who says I'm following you?" Bishop asked.  


"Oh just call it a feelin'." Remy snorted. "I'm a t'ief Bishop. Wouldn' 'ave gotten very far if I couldn't tell someone was followin' me." He turned around.  


Bishop's eyes widened. Remy was an absolute mess. The front of his sweat shirt was covered with a dark red stain that looked like dried blood. There was a gash on his cheek. "What happened?"  


"Nothin' I couldn't handle," Gambit informed him. He looked down at his shirt and frowned. "This? Don' worry, it's not mine."  


"How did it get there?" Bishop asked.  


"None of your business, Mon Ami," Gambit said, his voice flat and totally without emotion. Turning his back to Bishop, he walked into his room and shut the door firmly behind him.  


The blood and the gash convinced Bishop that whatever it was Gambit was involved in, it might be dangerous. Not only to the Cajun himself, but to the rest of the X-men. Spying on his own teammates wasn't something he felt was right, but in this case it was justified.  


That night he hid a tracer in the van.  


The next morning he activated it.  


The tracers signal lead him to a residential neighborhood in the out-skirts of the city. The van was parked in the back of the driveway that lead to an old Victorian style house. Parking his own car across the street, Bishop looked over the place. It was a peaceful, serene looking house, with strings of Christmas lights around the front porch and a large wreath on the front door. He could see a large Christmas tree, festively decorated through one of the windows. You couldn't have asked for a more Norman Rockwell Christmas type scene. 

_What is he doing in there?_ Bishop wondered. Somehow, this wasn't quite what he expected to find. Some seedy warehouse perhaps, but not this idyllic scene.  


After several minutes of watching and trying to puzzle this situation out, a side door to the house opened and a group of young children ran outside, followed by a woman. The children ranged in age from toddler to about five. The woman was probably in her mid twenties with long brown hair. Seeing that there were ten children, and they ranged in nationalities, Bishop highly doubted the woman was the birth mother to all of them. _Perhaps this is some sort of foster home, school, or day-care center? But what is Remy doing here?_  


The children were all carrying something in their hands and walking very determinately to the front yard. As they got closer, Bishop looked at what they were holding. They were pinecones. He could hear snatches of conversations.  


"Why did we have'ta put peanut butter on them?" 

"So the bird seed would stick." This was said in an older, more exasperated tone, as if the owner of the voice was getting a bit tired of answering questions for someone younger, and therefore inferior. 

"Do birds have Christmas?" 

"They will now." That was an adult voice, the woman who was heading up the rear. 

He watched, as the children, with the help of the woman, hung the pinecones on a tree. "There," she said, when the last one was hung. "Now the birds and squirrels will have their Christmas feast too."  


"I wish I could have a squirrel," one of the children commented. commented. 

"No you don't," another responded. "Squirels are just furry rats." 

"No they aren't." 

The woman looked over at the car and frowned. Although there was a street separating them, Bishop could see the fear... no, that wasn't enough, the _terror_ in her eyes as she realized he'd been observing them. "Quick, children," she called out, "Into the house. Into the house, _now_."  


The children quickly obeyed and scampered towards the house. From the way they snapped to obey the order, it was obvious these children were familiar with the command and knew they had to follow it without question. Bishop's eyes widened. As normal as these children seemed, all of them either were, or at one point lived in fear. Of what, he wasn't certain, but he didn't want them to be terrified of him. He meant them no harm.  


The woman watched to make sure all the children were almost in the house before following them. She turned to look at Bishop again, then started towards the house. He got out of the car. "Wait!" he call.  


The woman kept going.  


"Please, stop, I mean you no harm!" Bishop shouted, louder now.  


Very relcutantly, she turned to face him. Her eyes were wide with terror. "Wh-what do you want?" she asked.  


"I-I'm looking for someone," Bishop said. "A-a friend." He pointed to the van in the driveway. "This is his van."  


Suddenly the woman smiled, looking as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. "_Shades_? You're a friend of Shades?"  


_**Shades?**_ Bishop nodded, walking closer. "Yes. Yes I am." _Providing "Shades" is the one who drove this van here._  


"Well, why didn't you say so!" the woman said. "Gesh, I saw you watching me an' the kids and I was terrified someone had found out about us. But if you're friends with Shades, you must be all right."  


As Bishop was about to answer, the door opened and Gambit came outside, wearing his sunglasses. "Lisa, what-" He stopped abruptly, seeing Bishop. "Aw, crap."  


Lisa turned to him. "This guy claims he knows you, Shades. Is that true?"  


Gambit hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah, I know 'im."   


"Is he here to help out too?"   


"Don' know." Remy shrugged, walking over. "Lisa, why don' you go into de house? De children are worried 'bout you. Tell em' dis guy isn't a threat."  


Bishop was even more confused. What exactly _was_ this place and what was Gambit's connection to it.  


"All right," Lisa agreed. She smiled again to Bishop. "Sorry I freaked out back there, but well, a girl can't be too careful now, can she?"  


"No, I guess not," Bishop said for lack of anything better to say.  


Once Lisa was inside and shut the door, Gambit looked at Bishop and sighed. "I should have expected dis. Why you followin' me?"  


"Never mind that," Bishop said, scowling. "What _is_ this place? Why are _you_ here? Why were those children terrified of me? Why did that woman call you Shades?"  


"One at a time Bishop," Gambit grumbled, reaching into his pocket for a cigarette. "First off, dis place is called de Safehouse."  


"Safehouse?"  


Gambit nodded. "Safehouse. Why am I here? I'm helping out. Why were those children terrified of you? Cause most of dem haven't had great experiences wit' men. An' any man showin' up here clear outa de blue usually means trouble."  


"You mean this is-" Bishop began, then stopped. He had an idea what this place might be, but he wasn't exactly sure.  


Gambit nodded. "The Safehouse is a shelter for battered women. Not too many people know 'bout it, and they'd like t'keep it that way. The people that need it, know it."  


Everything seemed to click into place and Bishop suddenly felt ashamed. "And you help here?" he asked.  


Gambit nodded. "Yeah, I do. I come as often as I can. I help wit' de cooking, I paint rooms, I watch de kids... mostly I show dem dat not all men are bad, not all men want t'harm them."  


It didn't seem like Remy's style. "How did you get involved with this?"  


"Dat's not important," Remy said. When he saw Bishop's brows furrow, he sighed. "If you really must know, I was out late one night an' I saw Lisa an' her two little boys standin' on the street. It was pretty obvious dey didn't have a home t'go to. I tried t'talk to her, but she wasn't bein' very cooperative. Finally, I went an' got some burgers an' brought em' over." He paused, remembering that night a little too well. Lisa still hadn't wanted to trust him, but hunger won out, which only proved to him that their situation was even worse than he thought. "T'make a long story short, I couldn't leave em' in de streets, so I put em' up in a hotel for a few days. Eventually, Lisa told me she was runnin' from her husband who beat her an' her boys regularly. She didn' feel safe anywhere. I couldn't jus' leave her...so I checked 'round. I found out 'bout dis place an' I brought her here. De woman who run dis place, Angie, she tole me dey very careful 'bout who dey let know bout de Safehouse, an' because of dat, dey don't get a lot of people willin' t'volunteer dere time t'help. Dey need help, I got time. What else could I do?"  


_What indeed?_ Bishop wondered. "Why do they call you Shades?"  


"Cause I always wear dem when I'm here," Gambit answered simply. "I don' want dem to know who I am."  


"Would that be so bad?"  


Gambit frowned. "No, it isn't really important to dem I suppose." He looked over at the house, and then back at him. "But it's important t'me."  


"Why?"  


"I don' know 'actly," Remy admitted. "I...I don' always know why I do dis. Times I t'ink I could be doin' better t'ings wit' my time... but I keep comin' back. For de kids, for de women who feel like de entire male population of de world is out t'get dem. An' part of me comes back for _me_. I _like_ it here. Dey accept me. Dey don' know my past, dey don' know not'in 'bout me, yet dey managed to accept me. Dey judge me by what dey see."  


"And to tell them your name was Remy would it take that away?" Bishop asked.  


Gambit sighed. "Non, not t'dem. But t'me. If I did dis as Remy, or Gambit, it might look... it might look like I was doin' it to redeem myself. T'take away some of de sins of my past. I don' want dat. I don' want anyone...back at de mansion t'find out I do dis, because dey.. dey t'ink it's wonderful. I-I could never explain to dem in a million years why I do dis. I can' even explain it t'you."  


He paused, pulling his cigarettes from his pack and lighting one up. "Suppose it's too late for dat anyway. You know now. Bothers me though, dat you didn't trust me, you had t'follow me."  


"I was worried you were involved with something that could endanger you and the X-men," Bishop tried to explain. "I saw the blood on your shirt-"  


"I _tole_ you dat was not'ing," Remy quietly interrupted to remind him. "One of de kids here, Mark, he's an epileptic. He had a fit' an' fell an' cut his head. Dat's where de blood came from. I didn't know what to do, so I wrapped my shirt 'round his head so we could take him to de hospital. Dese people don' have lots of money, didn't want dem to waste a towel."  


"And the cut on your cheek?"  


"He was havin' a fit. He accidentally clawed me." Gambit took a deep drag off of his cigarette. "So, you gonna run home an' tell de others Remy's big secret?" His tone sounded almost bitter, as if he was being forced to give something very precious to him up.  


Bishop looked down at his feet, studying his shoes for a long time. He felt ashamed. Not only for spying on a teammate, but for doubting him in the first place, for thinking the worst, and for taking away this secret. "I won't tell," he finally said.  


Remy looked at him, suspicion written all over his face. "Yeah? How I know dat?"   


"You have to trust me," Bishop said. "I know, I've done nothing to deserve your trust, just the opposite. But I won't tell your secret. This..." he paused, indicating the house. "...isn't a danger to anyone. It's not a secret I feel anyone needs to know. You...you have my word on that."  


For the first time since seeing Bishop standing there, Remy smiled. "T'ank you, Mon Ami," he whispered. "Dis mean a lot to me."   


"You're welcome," Bishop said. "And I'm sorry I ever doubted you."   


"Some would say you _always_ should be wary of me," Remy admitted, dropping the last of the cigarette to the ground and grinding it out with his heal. "But in dis situation, I'm okay."  


The two men looked at each other for a moment, neither knowing quite what to do. Finally, Gambit shrugged his shoulders. "Uh.. I should get back into de house b'fore one of de kids starts throwin' stuff int' de gumbo dat just shouldn't be there."  


"All right," Bishop said.   


"You wanna come?" Gambit asked. "I'm sure we can find some'tin for you to do."  


Bishop shook his head. "No, I don't think I'm ready for that... and I don't think the children are quite ready to deal with me. Maybe - maybe you could tell them about me... get them used to the idea of me first."  


Remy nodded. "I'll do dat."   


Bishop never told anyone at the mansion Remy's secret. And since nobody really went into Remy's room and looked around, nobody noticed that the mirror around his dresser was framed with hand made Christmas cards, most of them saying, "Merry Christmas Shades!"  


_**The End.**_  


_**Special Thanks to Lori, for getting me to get off my butt and actually write this. ** _   
  


  


  
**Authors Notes: Thank you to everyone on fanfiction.net who's taken the time to review the X-S stories. 'Tis greatly appreciated. For those who are wondering what order the stories go in, the first story in the X-S series is "Unexpected Arrival." **

Soon enough, I hope to be opening up a site dedicated to X-S. When I do, every X-S story and beyond X-S story will be listed in cronological order. Even the ones I didn't write. When the site is opened, I'll post the URL, I promise. 

Thanks again. **THE STANDARD DISCLAIMER** ****The X-Men are owned by Marvel comics/Marvel Entertainment group. Sikudhani McCoy, however, is my (darqstar) creation. This story is intended as a tribute to Marvel and not intended for profit in any way. Marvel Comics and/or Marvel entertainment group has nothing to do with this story and are in no way, shape, or form, responsible for any of the contents. So, if you have a problem with this story, don't go to them, come to me. 


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